


Hey Brother

by SansyFresh



Series: Hurt/Comfort and Stuff [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Grillcest - Freeform, M/M, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slightly Antagonistic UF Grillby, UF Grillby is Dante, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 12:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17325257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Grillby is used to the world doing strange things. What he's not used to is having someone there who also understands.





	Hey Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Man I am on a mission to add some fics to some tags, don't mind me
> 
> UF Grillby is called Dante in this, UT Grillby is just Grillby

The opening of the Underground was a major event for both human and monsterkind. So when it happened again, this time with monsters that had more LV than they knew what to deal with, things were understandably tense. Grillby, in his stoic, unshakable way, made it clear the first day that as long as there were no fights, any and all Fellground monsters were permitted in his bar. 

 

Of course many of them took him up on that, needing food or shelter for the cold winter nights. He had plenty of food and a stockpile of blankets from previous experience and he knew, no matter how quickly the humans and monsters were working in the embassy, some of these monsters would not have homes until late spring at the earliest. So he let them stay, let them eat, and told them all that what they owed would be put on a tab and could be paid as they found work.

 

It didn’t seem like any of them were beholden to the idea of owing someone a debt, and plenty of them were nervous around him already, but when he was offering hot meals and a warm place to sleep, some of them couldn’t not accept. 

 

The day the dog couple from the Fellgrounds came in with a pair of pups, noses frigid from the cold, shivering as if they had fleas, seeking shelter until they could receive a place to stay, his heart nearly broke.

 

Of course, as the months went by things began to calm down, shelters built for the remaining monsters that didn’t have homes and funds donated to get them the food and water they needed, and Grillby had less company than he’d gotten used to. It was fine, he was accustomed to a life of solitude, had been alone for nearly a millennia other than his regulars and the monsters that had known him from before they were locked under a mountain. Company was nice, but he… he had the distinct feeling they all looked up to him, somehow. It irked his humble nature, and made him lonely more than anything else.

 

So the day his own double walked through the front door of his bar, purple flame nearly touching the ceiling in crackles and pops of curious aggression as he surveyed the place, Grillby had the feeling that maybe he’d finally meet someone who didn’t feel the way everyone else did. 

 

He called out a greeting, the curls of his flames reaching out in a curious, cautious hello. The other answered in common, their flames briefly feeding into each other before the other him smirked, settling into a bar stool with a weary grin.

 

“So.”

 

Grillby tilted his head. “...so.”

 

“So how did you get this nice of a place with all your LV, but I can’t.” It wasn’t a question, not really. More of an accusation than anything, but Grillby had been prepared for that kind of thing for years. He did have a higher LV than most monsters still alive, at least from his Underground. Instead of answering, he got out the good scotch and grabbed two tumblers, going through the motions of pouring out a finger or two.

 

“...what do you go by now?” he asked, pushing over one of the glasses before taking a sip of his own, the strong burn making his flames grow a little brighter. The other him glanced at the glass, but didn’t drink.

 

“Dante. I didn’t come up with that fucking masterpiece, some funny bones decided it fit me.” 

 

Grillby swallowed another sip, nodding. If he knew Sans, and after knowing the skeleton since he was a child, he liked to think he did, naming a fire elemental with an attitude “Dante” was mere child's play. “...how unfortunate.”

 

Dante scoffed a laugh. “Right? Anyways…” he gestured to the bar around them, the other patrons thankfully minding their own business for once. “How’d you get this place?” This time the question was more open, less antagonistic, so Grillby answered honestly. 

 

“...I proved I could handle alcohol without burning everything down.” Drinking the last sip of his scotch, Grillby set to cleaning the glass, watching as Dante carefully picked up his own still full glass, studied it for a moment, then took a small sip.

 

“I guess that makes the most fuckin’ sense.” he mumbled, before downing the rest like a shot. Grillby held in a comment about not treating the good scotch like cheap tequila, but knew the other had likely done it to get a reaction out of him. They were feeling each other out, it seemed, and Grillby was not about to be goaded into an altercation now.

 

After that they discussed the Surface, the Underground, the differences in their lives (Dante had run what would be considered more of a dive bar than a bar and restaurant), and… that they’d both served in the war was Major Generals. Dante seemed less broken up about it than Grillby was, had always been, but maybe he’d just had enough time to really hide any evidence that it still bothered him. 

 

The sun slowly went across the sky, and soon enough it was time to close, clean up for the night, and head to the apartment he’d had installed above the bar. Dante offered to help, which in itself was surprising, but maybe less so than would be expected. As Grillby swept and Dante stacked the chairs, Grillby stopped, peering over his glasses at the purple flame that diligently made sure the chairs were even and weren’t likely to tip over in the middle of the night.

 

Making up his mind, he spoke. “If you’d like… I could help you get a license.”

 

Dante glanced back at him, clearly incredulous, and Grillby felt he needed to specify.

 

“...as long as you don’t steal my customers.”

 

Dante stared at him for a moment, then looked around the bar. Slowly a grin grew over his face, and he leaned back with a wink. “What if I just worked here, hotshot?”

 

Grillby felt himself warm from his core outwards, and couldn’t help the grin that took over his face. “That would be…amenable.” 


End file.
